Archive for March, 2012

I haven’t been blogging much lately, mostly because I’m trying to get my shit together to move. But I promise that after I move I’ll be blogging a lot more, as Garnet has assigned me one of those 30 days of blog prompts things for after I move. But today, I’m kind of in trouble for being a panicky, irresponsible jackass and I promised I’d stay off tumblr at work, so I’m blogging on my break instead.

So I think I’m mostly over the fact that Roderick cheated on me. I think. Considering the number of times I’ve thought that before and then I really wasn’t, I’m reluctant to say I’m completely over it, but I am way more over than I was even a few weeks ago. It feels kind of good to not be angry.

I’m not exactly thrilled that it happened, and I still think he was kind of a dumbass about it. And really, getting more over this has made me reevaluate some things that have resulted in me really not being that thrilled with myself…but, well…I feel kind of less like cheating is the huge, ultimate betrayal that means everything about me is awful and unattractive and unlovable. I think maybe that, in this case at least, it didn’t really have anything to do with me. And maybe that cheating is just sort of a shitty thing that happens. It is possibly not a reflection on my attractiveness and lovability and whether or not I’m a switch.

I mean, I’ve had four long-term relationships since I started dating people. Two of the four people I’ve had long-term relationships with have cheated. And it always kind of made sense that Dr. Asshole was having a serious, emotional relationship with my supposed best friend. He was an asshole. I was only ever sort of mad at him (especially compared to how furious I was with her and the many mutual friends who knew about it). And really, every single aspect of my relationship with him was about how awful and unlovable and unattractive I was–why should the end of it be any different?

But Roderick…Roderick was supposed to be different. People who’ve met him know this about him–Roderick is really, really nice. It actually turns out that no one is nice all the time, and that dating someone for four years is actually a pretty great way to see all their not-nice sides…but that’s kind of beside the point. The point is, someone can totally be that really nice person and listen to you and reassure you and support you and even love you and…well…still be kind of a jackass about one particular thing.

Now, having reframed things, and having thought about the way that he and I were so cuddly and juuust barely on the side of not-quite-cheating before he broke up with the girl he dated before me, and the way I probably would have regarded that were I that girl…well of course there were problems with boundaries when we tried to open up our relationship. Of course. So I feel less like the part where he cheated on me means that I’m awful and unlovable, but a lot more like I (with full knowledge that it was kind of a fucked up thing) was completely complicit in doing a fucked up thing to someone else.

Either way I’m not too thrilled with myself. But at least this way I’m slightly less mindnumbingly terrified of ever being cheated on again.

Edit: I hate when I write a post and then days later the perfect one sentence summary-and-conclusion pops into my head. What I’m saying here is not “once a cheater always a cheater” but more “Maybe someone who has equivocated about boundaries in relationships a bunch before is not the person you want to explore an open relationship with very specific rules and boundaries with.”

On apartment hunting: Apartment hunting, looking for a room in an apartment with roommates, is horrible. It’s like really desperate online dating–you read an ad, you get excited about it and reply, and the you desperately hope you won’t get rejected. And it’s even worse when you actually go see the apartment and meet people and get rejected. Ugh…also, it feels like so many of the listings are either for a terrifying queer commune with a strict vegetarian kitchen and no privacy or scarily boring straight people who work in advertising. It makes me feel even more like I don’t fit in anywhere–I eat meat, I’m an introvert, but I’m queer and passionate about social justice. Keep your fingers crossed for me, readers?

On training: Now that I’m more settled in to my new work schedule since getting promoted, Garnet has given me a new masturbation schedule and new chores. Some days she even has me wearing butt plug for a significant portion of the day. It is both exciting and difficult. I really have a thing about her…making alterations to my body to suit her use and her taste, so being held open for her is really thrilling. Also, I feel way more stable in general now that I’m back on a schedule for both cleaning and masturbating. I think I’m even sleeping better.

On being creative: I don’t think I’m creative at all. I’ve been thinking about this, because as y’all know I occasionally dabble in writing erotica, but I definitely feel like I’m not a “real writer,” whatever that means. But I really don’t think I’m creative at all. I think I’m much better at interpreting other people’s stuff than I am at coming up with my own. (For example, I still think my H.P. Lovecraft parody porn is probably the best story I’ve written.) It makes me second-guess myself a lot, in more than just writing. It’s kind of an ongoing theme.

On a semi-related note, I’m starting to really miss performing.

On stress: I feel like the more stressed out I am, the smaller my world gets. Like, I can’t handle anything outside my very limited, tiny little world. This apartment hunt/my anxiety about moving is making everything contract down to a tiny pinpoint and I keep shutting down and shutting absolutely everyone out. I wish I were better at coping with things and could stop doing this.

I have been having trouble writing lately. I sometimes get paranoid about this blog–more people read it than I really ever expected, and sometimes I post really intense and personal stuff here. Every once in a while I feel a little too exposed and it makes it hard to write. But I owe Garnet a post about last week-end, so it’s time to plunge back in. Here goes.

Garnet and I exchanged Valentine’s Day gifts. I may have gone a little overboard. I’ve never really had this much money to spend on a significant other before, and it’s exciting. She gave me a little black box which, when I opened it, contained two necklaces (one with a charm in the shape of a lock, one with a key) and two tiny glass vials with corks. I didn’t put it together right away, but then I looked over at the boxes of scalpels and needles she’d brought and then it clicked. ”Needle or scalpel?” she asked. I ended up choosing the needles. I did get a little nervous when she said we were going to bleed each other, but she stuck herself and all I had to do was pull the needle out and catch the blood in one of the vials. It filled right up, and she even let me lick up the extra blood. She corked up my vial and then pulled out a needle for me.

I was maybe a little dehydrated. I didn’t bleed much when she pulled out my needle. It, in fact, took two needle sticks and a little cut with a scalpel to get enough blood to fill her vial. Apparently I clot and heal really fast? And then, well, the scalpel was already open and used, so it made sense to use it more. With our little vials of blood capped up and put in a safe place, waiting to be super glued into place on our necklaces, it was time to play. I ended up lying face down, with her scratching my skin with the scalpel. She considered my garter belt. ”How attached are you to these garters?” she asked.

“I’ve actually been meaning to buy a new one for a while…” I said, a little breathlessly. She sliced through one strap, then the other with the scalpel, snapping the garter against my skin. She almost sliced through my underwear as well, but decided she liked it too much to ruin it. Instead, she bled me again, slipping the scalpel into my skin and drinking from the cut. I love feeding her.

Then she took the handle-end of the scalpel and slid it into my cunt. She whispered to me not to move around too much, since the blade was sticking out of me. She flogged me a little, with her rubber squid flogger, and I tried to lie very, very still. She slid the scalpel out of me and showed me how far inside me it had been.

It was so exciting finally getting to do more stuff with blood. And now I have part of her with me all the time, next to my heart.

So I mentioned that I gave Garnet a new cock for Valentine’s Day. It was, in fact, a very, very exciting cock. A Fun Factory Share. After breakfast the next day, and some lounging around internetting, I asked if we could maybe try it out. (I asked! I actually asked!) Garnet laughed at me. ”You? Want sex? Never!” she said. She handed me the dildo to go and wash, and I did, and she put it on. It took a little adjusting to get it situated, but when she was done I asked if I could suck it. She said yes, and I slipped the end of it into my mouth. We were positioned so that the angles were wrong for me to really deepthroat, but it was incredibly hot when she grabbed the back of my head and fucked my face, moaning a little as she did so.

She decided that I should ride her again, so she laid down and I lubed up the cock and climbed on top of her. It felt delicious as it slid into place. It was more curved that I expected it to be. Garnet pulled me in close then pushed me back so she could watch me ride her cock. ”You look so sexy…” she told me at one point, and I’m fairly sure I blushed.

I was getting really close to coming, without even adding vibration. That’s how completely delicious everything felt. Then Garnet asked me to hand her a vibrator, and she turned it on and held it to my clit and I couldn’t hold back, I couldn’t even ask for permission, I just came. And then I came again, I think. I forget exactly how it happened, but she suggested I grab my Hitachi, since she would be able to feel that, too. She pressed the Hitachi against me and flipped the switch, and…well…things are a little blurry. I came. And came some more. At one point I remember pulling back from the Hitachi a little to catch my breath, the pushing up against it again, and coming almost instantly. At another point I found myself in an awkward (and probably really goofy looking) position. ”I think I’m stuck…” I said. She switched off the Hitachi until I could move again, then she flipped it back on and made me come several more times.

We determined afterwords that I came somewhere between five and seven times, which is more orgasms than I ever thought I would have at a time. I expressed concern that I was being selfish and had come too many times. Garnet laughed and said she wouldn’t have basically forced me to keep coming if she hadn’t wanted me to have lots of orgasms. Then she cuddled me until I was capable of doing things like standing up and walking, at which point we went out and got ice cream.

Forced orgasms are really, ridiculously hot, but they take a lot out of me. Ice cream helps.